Quills and Quidditch: Once Upon a Hogwarts
by eleven19
Summary: All your favorite OUAT characters as teenagers, doing what teenagers do: struggling with classes, having adora-bibble crushes on each other, dealing with the Yule Ball and Quidditch, rivalries and friendships-cuteness all around. No angsty Voldemort plot, just fun times in year five. Baby Hook has a crush on Baby Belle, B. Victor on B. Ruby, B. Neal on B. Emma... IT'S CUTE.
1. Sparks Fly

**So, this is what happens when I binge-watch "** **Harry Potter" for the thousandth time in my life. Plus, I reread the books recently, so it really wasn't my fault that I did this. I'm still working on all my other stories, it's just this is YET ANOTHER one I'm writing simultaneously, because I have the attention of a two-year-old, and I often flick between stories.**

 **I also have some pieces from their earlier years, but I haven't posted them yet because they're incomplete. I'll post those eventually under a new story, but still in this same universe.**

 **Happy reviews, and you all get a chocolate frog.**

The halls had become a nightmare of girls, whispering and giggling as they huddled together, shuffling from class to class. The Yule Ball was already proving to be a hellish experience, and it was still a month away.

Killian side-stepped a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls, swooning over Graham Hunter as he glided into the Potions classroom.

"Move," he said rudely, shoving past one. She threw him a glare, which he ignored. He climbed the steps out of the dungeon, still ducking around girls as they spoke to each other in hushed tones.

He was going to be late to Charms, as usual. Not like it really mattered: he could barely manage a Levitation Charm. But Flitwick would give him detention if he was more than ten minutes late, and he did _not_ want to sacrifice Quidditch practice again.

"It's absolutely _mental_ down there," a voice said behind him. Killian glanced over his shoulder as Victor Whale, a fellow Slytherin fifth-year, caught up to him, adjusting the strap of his overstuffed bag. "Can't even get into the bloody common room, it's so crowded."

"Get used to it. This is your life for the next month," Killian grumbled, turning sideways to walk between two groups. Victor followed him, tugging his bag impatiently through the crowd.

"You going with anyone?" he asked as they climbed the staircase. "I was thinking about asking Ruby Lucas—"

"Lucas?" Killian snorted.

"What?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but—" he clapped Victor's shoulder—"I think she's a bit out of your league, mate."

"Oh, thanks."

"Besides," Killian shrugged, "I think Hunter's going to ask her. Heard him squealing over it with his idiot friends," he added, rolling his eyes.

"What about you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Victor, I'm flattered, but I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Oh, shut up," Victor said acidly. "You know what I mean."

His thoughts briefly turned to a certain Ravenclaw girl before he forced them away. "Nope. I think I'll just go stag."

"Might as well not go at all, mate."

"And miss the Weird Sisters? I don't _think_ so."

That sparked an argument on the merits of the Weird Sisters, which lasted until they arrived at the Charms classroom. Flitwick gave him a disapproving look when he finally walked in, leaving Victor to scamper off to Arithmancy.

"Sorry, Professor," he said cheerfully. "I was practicing my Bubble-head Charm, and I lost track of the time."

"Take your seat, Jones." Flitwick tapped his wand against the desk. "Wands out! We're practicing our Color-Change Charms today, because I promise you, they _will_ show up on your O.W.L.'s!"

Killian grimaced as Flitwick explained the object of the lesson: they would be attempting to change their partners' hair color. No one was going to want to work with him, he'd probably set them on fire. He blew out a breath, sizing up his classmates for the bravest ones.

He caught Emma Nolan's eye. "What do you say, Nolan? Want to turn my hair purple?"

"And get blown up? No, thank you."

"Yeah, but my aim's rubbish. You'll probably safer if I'm aiming for you."

Emma rolled her eyes, turning away from him. _Damn it._ He twirled the wand between his fingers, making sparks shoot out. Sweeping his gaze around the room, he saw Belle French and Neal Cassidy immediately pair themselves up, already snickering. He felt a pang of jealousy, which he instantly squashed down.

"Come on, Nolan," he said, turning back. "I thought Gryffindors were brave."

"Yes, _brave,_ not stupid."

"Well, pretty much everyone's paired off, anyway," he pointed out.

Emma scanned the room, biting her lip. "Fine," she said reluctantly, getting up. "But if you send us to the hospital wing, I'll—"

"Do something horrible, involving my vital organs, I'm sure. Come on."

After going over the incantation and the wand movement a few times, they faced each other, Emma looking somewhat apprehensive.

"All right," she said, pointing her wand at him. "What color do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Emma frowned, concentrating on her wand movement. " _Colovario!_ "

He felt tingling sensation above his eye, and instinctively reached for it. "What happened?"

"I turned your eyebrow green" she said, looking frustrated as she lowered her wand.

He dropped his hand. "All right, my turn." He pointed his wand at her.

"Don't disfigure me," she said, closing her eyes.

"Can't promise anything, Nolan." Killian took a deep breath, and tried to mimic her wand movement. " _Colovario!_ "

Emma yelped as sparks exploded in her hair. Flitwick immediately waved his wand to put them out, then turned to give Killian a stern look.

"I wonder how wise it is to have rival Seekers paired with each other," he said suspiciously.

"I didn't do it on purpose," he said defensively.

Flitwick studied him for a moment. "Come see me after class."

Emma waited until Flitwick had drifted over to another pair, then turned around, smirking. "He's going to make you take Remedial Charms."

"Careful, Nolan," he said, raising his wand threateningly. "I'm not getting any better at this."

"No," she said instantly, backing up. "Don't you dare. I don't want my eyebrows burned off before the Yule Ball."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you going with anyone?"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "You're not asking me to go with you, are you?"

Killian snorted. "I'd rather bathe in Bobotuber pus."

She chose not to answer him and instead, pointed her wand at him. "Hold still," she ordered. "You may not care, but _I_ don't want to fail my O.W.L."

"Make my other eyebrow red. I'm in a festive mood."

" _Colovario!_ "

The spell rustled his hair, and a bright orange strand fell in his face. He frowned, pulling at it. Emma smiled triumphantly.

"Don't look so proud of yourself, I said _red,_ not orange," he said, refusing to be impressed.

"You want highlights?" she asked smugly, twirling her wand.

By the time class had ended, his hair had gone from orange to purple to green, then back to purple. He had gotten his revenge by singeing her robes and setting fire to the tips of her hair a few more times. Flitwick put out the little flames for the fourth time, and called out, "All right, everyone! That's enough for today! Don't worry, the charms should wear off in a few minutes. Your homework is to practice, because on Monday, I want to have a graded evaluation!"

The class groaned as they shuffled to their desks, stuffing their wands in their bags. Killian went a little slower, so no one would see him hang back to talk to Flitwick. Purposefully, he knocked his notes off the desk, scattering them on the floor. He dropped to his knees, effectively hiding himself from sight.

"Hey, Em," he heard Neal say.

"Hey, Neal, how's—? Oh, my God!" Emma broke off into a fit of laughter. "Look at your hair!"

Killian poked his head up to see Neal's vividly colored hair: yellow at the roots, turning green in the middle, and the end of the curls ending in electric blue.

"Yeah, Belle's pretty gifted at spells that humiliate me," he smiled, tugging at it. "You remember that week we learned Tarantallegra? I was dancing the samba the rest of the night. She wouldn't tell me the counter-curse until I embarrassed myself in front of McGonagall."

Killian fought a smile, turning back to his fallen notes.

"Hey, you're good at Potions, right?" Neal asked suddenly.

"Yeah, I'm all right."

"Okay, great." There was a small _thud!_ as Neal dropped his bag on the desk, and then the sound of paper rustling as he pulled out a sheaf. "I've got a few questions about Snape's essay, then—if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, I don't mind. I've only got Divination after this."

Killian gathered his notes more quietly, hoping for hints that could help him finish his own essay. Calming Draughts were, ironically, one of the more stressful potions they'd studied.

"Okay, so…what is the most active ingredient in Calming Draughts, do you want to come with me to the Yule Ball, and at what concentration does it start to have adverse effects?"

Killian frowned, popping his head up again. Emma was staring at Neal, her mouth slightly open.

"What?"

"At what concentration does it start—?"

"Neal!" she exclaimed, but smiling widely nonetheless.

 _Damn, that was good,_ Killian thought, grudgingly admiring Neal's technique. _Brilliant, actually._

"So?" Neal raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly.

Emma looked as though she was trying to contain her smile. "Yeah, all right," she said, somewhat shyly.

Killian raised an eyebrow: this was a completely unfamiliar Emma Nolan, this blushing, smiling shy girl. It was unnerving, seeing her like this, and he dearly hoped to never see her like this again.

"Good," Neal said, looking relieved. He bumped his fist listlessly against his leg as they edged toward the door. "So, you've got, uh…?"

"Divination."

"Divination, right. I guess I better let you get to class before Trelawney predicts another agonizing death for you, so… see you later."

"Yeah, see you."

Killian waited until they had left before standing up, his thoroughly gathered notes in hand. Neal Cassidy and Emma Nolan? How long had _that_ been going on?

"You took an awfully long time finding your papers back there," Flitwick said, peering at him over his spectacles. Killian jumped, nearly upsetting his papers again.

"Sorry, sir," he said, stuffing them in his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder. He walked through the row of desks, stopping in front of Flitwick's. "So… you wanted to see me?"

Flitwick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Take a seat, Jones," he said, gesturing to one of the front row desks.

Warily, he sat, setting his bag on the ground. "Sir?"

"I'm concerned about your progress in Charms—or rather, lack thereof." Flitwick took off his spectacles to wipe them. "Do you have any thoughts on what you'd like to do after you leave Hogwarts?"

"Uh…" Killian blinked, taken aback by the question. "Not…not really."

Flitwick nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm…well, the fact is, Jones, most professions require at least an 'A' on your Charms O.W.L. Everyone needs basic Charms, and you're failing. In fact, I'm almost impressed by how much you're failing." He smiled briefly, then grew serious again. "You don't have to continue Charms after fifth year, but you _do_ need to pass it. Do you understand?"

Killian swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"All right, then." Flitwick pulled out a scroll and frowned down at it. "Off you go."

He stood up hesitantly, a question forming on his tongue. "Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Er…" He closed his eyes, and blurted before he lost his nerve, "Would I need an 'A' if I wanted to play Quidditch?"

Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "No… but don't count your owls before they've 're a very good Quidditch player, Jones, but it is a highly selective field. It would be wise to have something to fall back on."

"Right, 'course," he said hastily. "I was just…I was just wondering."

Flitwick nodded. "Go on, then," he said, waving him out the door.

* * *

"So," Victor said, spearing a potato with his fork, "did you ask anyone yet?"

Killian swirled his spoon around the orange blob that had once been turnips. "I already told you, I'm going alone."

"You should ask Regina," Victor said in a hushed tone, apparently not hearing him. He elbowed him. "Go on, she's right there, ask her!"

"I don't _want_ to ask Regina."

"She's one of the best-looking girls in our year, and you don't want to ask her?" Victor said incredulously.

"You ask her, then."

"Regina? Pfft, she's _way_ out of my league," he snorted. "But you? You've got the whole Quidditch- star-thing going for you, she'll go with you."

"I don't want to ask her," Killian repeated exasperatedly.

"Come off it."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Fine!" He leaned across the table, and tapped the spot in front of Regina. She looked at his fingers disdainfully, then slowly raised her eyes.

"What do you want, Jones?"

"Victor wants me to ask you to the Yule Ball. Interested?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Good." He sat back, turning to Victor with raised eyebrows. "Satisfied?"

Victor shook his head, as if he were struggling to understand. "There isn't a _single_ girl in the _entire_ school you'd want to ask?" He swept his arm out, gesturing to the rest of the Great Hall. "Out of _all_ of them? Not a _single_ one?"

Involuntarily, his eyes flicked to the Ravenclaw table. "No."

Victor frowned, raising a finger. "Wait, what was that?"

"What? Nothing," he said, shifting his gaze back to his mutilated turnips.

"No, no, no," Victor pressed. "No, you did this jerky-thing with your eyes."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you _did,_ " he insisted. "But you looked over there…" He pointed to the right. "So…that means it's _not_ a Slytherin girl." Victor turned around, sitting backwards on the bench, resting his elbows on the table behind him. "So! What are we looking at here?"

"Oh, don't," Killian groaned, dropping his head in his hands.

"No, it's fun!" Victor said excitedly, sweeping his gaze across the Great Hall. "So, what is she, Gryffindor?" He turned to see Killian's face, and raised his eyebrows. "Gryffindor?"

Killian rolled his eyes. Victor nodded affirmatively.

"That means no. Hufflepuff?"

"Victor…"

"Okay, that could be yes _or_ no, not sure. Ravenclaw?"

Killian made an exasperated noise, tossing his spoon down. Victor's smile widened, pointing at him.

"She's a Ravenclaw, isn't she? I _knew_ it. Okay, so who would—?"

"Hey, there's Lucas," Killian said suddenly, pointing as the dark-haired Gryffindor girl stood up from the table to talk to someone at Hufflepuff. He punched Victor in the arm, a little too forcefully to be entirely friendly. "Go on, ask her."

Victor grimaced, rubbing his arm. "You're avoiding the conversation."

"Do you want someone else to ask her before you do?"

Victor looked at Ruby longingly as she laughed, flipping a strand of long hair over her shoulder. "No," he said reluctantly.

"Then, come on, get up," Killian said, standing up and tugging his arm. "I'll go with you, come on."

Victor bit his lip, watching Ruby. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. He allowed Killian to pull him up. "Let's go."

They walked over, Victor dragging his feet more and more the closer they got. "I can't do this," he whispered as they reached the Hufflepuff table.

"Just _go_." Killian pushed him forward, almost sending him tripping. Ruby looked up, raising her eyebrows as Victor stumbled toward her.

"You okay?" she asked, warily eyeing him. Victor straightened up, smoothing his robes.

"Yeah, fine. Completely fine. Really very…uh… _fine,_ I guess." He turned around, mouthing to Killian, _What am I saying?_

 _Ask her_ , he mouthed back, waving his hands. Victor turned back to Ruby.

"So…I was kind of wondering, uh… has—has anyone asked you to the Yule Ball yet?"

Ruby's face took on a pitying expression, and she smiled gently. Killian sucked in his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. _Oh, this is going to hurt._

 _"_ Not exactly," she said apologetically. "But…"

"I see," Victor said quickly. "It's fine."

"I'm really sorry," she said as he backed up.

"No, really, it's fi—Hey!" Victor exclaimed as Killian caught the back of his robes and dragged him back.

"I thought no one asked you," he frowned, walking Victor back to Ruby. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"This has _nothing_ to do with you, Jones," she said coldly.

"Let me guess," he said loudly, causing everyone within earshot to turn their heads. "You're waiting for someone _specific_ to ask you."

Ruby looked furious. "Shh!" she hissed.

"Who could it be?" he said, raising his voice so more heads turned. "Who would RUBY LUCAS want to ask her to the Yule Ball?"

"Killian, stop," Victor muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Killian ignored him, not looking away from Ruby's simultaneously terrified and enraged face.

"COULD IT BE GRAHAM HUNTER?" he said, his voice echoing through the whole Great Hall. He could see Hunter out of the corner of his eye look over angrily and push himself up.

Victor squirmed away, disappearing back to the Slytherin table. Killian dropped his hand, smiling icily as a furious Hunter strode up to him.

"Leave her alone," Hunter ordered, jabbing a finger at him.

"Or?" He quirked an eyebrow. "You going to hit me? Wouldn't that put a black on your record? You'll never make Head Boy like that."

Hunter gave him a disgusted look. "Just go pick a fight with some mountain trolls, do us all a favor." He turned back around and walked over to a white-faced Ruby, speaking gently as he walked her back to her table. Killian watched them go with a bored expression fixed on his face.

Slowly, he turned around and started sauntering back to the Slytherin table. The crowd, losing interest as the scene ended, returned to their conversations and the sounds of voices and clattering forks resumed. As he passed by the Ravenclaw table, he caught a pair of familiar blue eyes scowling at him. A small pang of regret hit him, which he shrugged off immediately. _I don't care,_ he told himself firmly. _I_ don't _care._


	2. Library Adventures

Killian gritted his teeth as the sound of Emma's laughter drifted over for the third time. Where was Madam Pince? She'd come rushing over, snapping and squawking, if his nose whistled, but when Emma Nolan was disrupting the whole bloody library, it was fine?

He glared down at his textbook, trying to block out the noise of Neal saying something in a low voice as Emma tried and failed to stifle her giggles. _The Calming Draught can be dangerous in higher concentrations, particularly when the ratio of belladonna to hellebore is greater than the ratio of Mother-wort to nightshade._

"What?" he muttered, completely confused. He flipped through the rest of the chapter, skimming for some explanation. _In some cases, the hellebore can be replaced by using a concentration of .75 M Horklump juice, but the potion must be supplemented by an equal dose of rose oil. This will counteract the effects of the belladonna that would otherwise cause the drinker to lose consciousness._

He blinked at the words a few times. " _What?"_

"Shh!" Madam Pince said furiously. He raised his hands innocently, mouthing, _Sorry._ She pursed her lips disapprovingly and went back to the stack of papers in front of her. Slowly, he lowered his hands and turned back to the Potions chapter.

 _Nightshade is similar to belladonna in its binding behavior, but the strength is much decreased, due to the fibrousness of its binding agents that cause the concentration to be more easily diluted; whereas belladona has ionic binding agents that attract each other, the covalent binding agents of nightshade—_

He slammed the book shut and shoved it angrily in his bag, pulling out his Charms book instead. He flipped through it roughly, looking for the chapter on Summoning Charms. Everyone else in the class had managed to make their cushions zoom into their hands from across the room; as usual, he had set his on fire.

"Okay," he said, propping his book open. He studied the diagram, trying to mimic the wand position. He did a few practice waves, before turning his attention to the bookshelf opposite him. Focusing on a thick red book, he pointed his wand.

" _Accio Book!_ "

The bookshelf toppled backwards. Madam Pince's head snapped up, looking like an angry bird. Hastily, he stuffed his textbook in his bag, nearly tripping as he scrambled away, wincing as she shrieked, _"JONES!"_

He darted through the Charms section, then crouched behind a particularly large stack of orphan books as Madam Pince's boots thumped furiously against the floor. He swore he could see her nostrils _flare_ , almost as though she were hunting him by scent, when she passed the Charms section. He held his breath when she paused, her beady eyes glaring around…then breathed again when she slowly walked on.

Breathing as quietly as he could, he tried to settle in a more comfortable position, removing the strap from around his neck. He didn't know how long he was going to have to hide, but as soon as a large enough group left, he'd sneak out with them. And then _never_ go to the library again.

He glanced around, looking for potential groups when he caught sight of Belle French, sitting at a table, flanked by two Ravenclaw boys: Jefferson Hatter and Neal Cassidy. Emma was sitting across from Neal, putting her head down as she shook with laughter. Neal was apparently telling a story, judging from the way he moved his hands around. Jefferson was leaning forward, a smile growing on his face. Belle glanced up from her book, opening her mouth to say something when she caught Killian's eye.

 _Damn it._

The smile faded from her face, and her eyes turned cold. They shifted toward Madam Pince, then back to him. Slowly, she got up from her chair and walked over. She didn't look at him as she crossed the room, but when she stopped in the Charms section, she said out of the corner of her mouth, "Give me one good reason not to call Madam Pince."

"Because she'll mount my head on her wall?"

"Not good enough, Jones." She pretended to be looking for a book on a lower shelf. "I hope you know, I thought it was absolutely despicable the way you humiliated Ruby Lucas in front of everyone the other day."

He scoffed. "If it wasn't for me, Hunter might not have asked her at all, and she'd be miserable. She should be thanking me for guilting him into it."

Belle pulled out a book, frowning as she flipped through it. "You have a strange way of looking at things." She turned a few pages. "Why did you knock over the shelves?"

"Got bored," he said acidly. "Just felt like _sic_ -ing a mad librarian on myself."

Her frown deepened. Killian toyed with a loose string on his sweater.

"Practicing my Summoning Charm," he muttered resignedly, feeling mortified. Belle's eyebrows rose.

"That's fourth-year material. You still can't manage a simple Summoning Charm?"

"Well, if I _could,_ I wouldn't have knocked the bloody shelf over, would I?"

"If you can't handle Accio, how do you expect to pass your O.W.L?" she said, pulling out a different book. He shrugged.

"I don't."

For the first time, she turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean, you don't?"

He blinked a few times, surprised by the lack of hostility in her voice. "I mean, there's no way I'm going to pass Charms. Flitwick basically told me I amaze him with how bad I am."

She looked at him curiously. "You should get yourself a tutor," she said finally, standing up. "Or you're going to amaze a panel of Ministry-appointed examiners in six months." And with that, she walked away, leaving him to stare wonderingly after her.

Was that an offer to tutor him? Or was she making fun of him? Girls were even more confusing than Potions! Why couldn't they just say what they meant? Why did he have to analyze and decode every word?

His shoulder started to ache from the awkward angle it was at, but he could still hear Madam Pince's boots as they thumped threateningly in the distance. Silently, he begged for some group to decide they were hungry, so they would get up and _leave._

Again, he caught Belle's eye. He frowned as she looked between him and Madam Pince: she wasn't seriously going to rat him out? She seemed to be trying to tell him something, with little movements of her hands and eyes, but he couldn't decipher it. He shook his head and mouthed, _I don't understand._

She rolled her eyes, but held up a finger for him to be patient. "Madam Pince?" she said, standing up as the vulturous librarian circled toward her table. "Can you help me with something?"

"Hmm?"

"There's this book I need. It should be in the Transfiguration section, but I can't seem to find it." Belle flicked her eyes back to his and irritably jerked her head toward the exit as Madam Pince followed her to the opposite side of the library.

 _Thank you,_ he mouthed, not wasting any time in getting to his feet and walking quickly to the exit, keeping his head down. His heart felt like it was going to explode, especially when Belle said in a very audible voice, "I don't think we should look in Charms. How about Astronomy?"

Hurriedly, he pushed through a group of Hufflepuffs just entering the library, ignoring their indignant squawks, and stumbled out the door. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, putting his hands on his knees. Madam Pince was, without a doubt, the most terrifying creature in the Wizarding World: it was astonishing she didn't have her own page in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

But even more astonishing than that was the fact the Belle had helped him escape her. Right after she told him she hated what he did to Ruby, and he admitted how he was failing Charms. If anything, he'd have thought that would've made her disapprove of him even more. But it didn't. In fact, it almost made her seem…sympathetic? _Impossible,_ he thought, shaking his head. _She hates me._

Or did she?

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and headed for the Slytherin common room, still trying to untangle the riddles Belle left him.

 **HOW CUTE IS BABY HOOK, THOUGH?**


	3. The Great Hall: Ravenclaws

Belle dropped her bag on the table, exhausted by the weight of her textbooks. Yawning, she looked around blearily for Neal and Jefferson. Normally, she was the last to arrive at their table during lunch hour, so she was quite surprised to find their spot empty.

They weren't far behind, though: Neal appeared a few moments later, walking with Emma into the Great Hall. They were still talking even as Neal slipped off his bag and slid into the seat, Emma following suit.

"…just exploded all down the front of my robes, and he just looks at me and says—" Neal deepened his voice and sneered, doing an uncanny impersonation of Snape—"'Mr. Cassidy, if you cannot follow simple instructions, how do you expect to achieve anything higher than a _T_ on your O.W.L.?' I mean, is that really necessary to announce in front of the whole class?"

"'Course it isn't," Emma said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "That's what makes him such a git."

"Did he give you detention again?" Belle asked, pulling a platter of casserole toward her and scooping some onto her plate.

"Of course he did," Neal said through a mouthful of bread. "I'm starting to think he just enjoys my company."

"You should have asked _him_ to the Yule Ball," Emma snorted. Neal turned to her, raising his eyebrows.

"Having second thoughts, Nolan?"

"Well, I'd _hate_ to get in the way of true love."

Belle laughed as Neal rolled his eyes, reaching for his goblet. "Speaking of," he said, "did you hear about Hunter asking Ruby Lucas?"

"Of course he asked her," Jefferson said from behind as he sat down. "You saw how Jones humiliated her in front of everyone, no way he was going to make her live that down without asking her."

"Where were you?" Belle asked, twisting in her seat. Jefferson grimaced.

"Arguing with Binns about the length of my essay."

"Goblin wars paper?" she asked, making a face. He rolled his eyes, nodding.

"After fifth year, I'm done with History of Magic," he said, pulling a plate toward him. "I can't last another year with Binns."

"You know," Emma frowned, tapping her fork, "I'm surprised it took me this long to hear about Hunter asking Ruby. She's got the bed next to mine. You'd think she'd have told me."

"I'm surprised she didn't announce it to the whole school," Jefferson snorted.

"When did he ask her?" Belle asked, swinging her head to look at him.

"Well," he said, chewing past a potato, "you know how he had to walk her back to the Gryffindor table because she was too embarrassed to remember how to walk? I think he asked her then."

Emma made a noise of frustration, and hit the table. "Damn, I forgot!" She looked at Neal, grimacing. "Dress robes. Still haven't bought mine."

"Dress robes." Neal cursed. "I forgot about those."

Jefferson raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you're going?"

"Of course, he is," Emma said scathingly. Jefferson ignored her.

"Did you ask anyone? Are you taking someone?" he demanded, pointing his fork at Neal accusingly. "You didn't tell me anything."

Neal blinked. "I'm taking Emma," he said, jutting his thumb at her. Jefferson looked between the two of them with wide eyes.

"You two are going together?" His mouth fell open.

"Yeah," Emma said, folding her arms defensively. "Problem?"

"No, it's just…" Jefferson shook his head. "Am I the only one without a date now?"

"Belle doesn't have a date," Neal said, picking up his fork again. Belle stared at him.

"Thanks."

"Hang on, if you two are going together—" Jefferson turned to Belle and pointed between the two of them—"why don't we go together?"

"Oh, there's an idea," Emma said brightly.

"No, I don't want to go with you just because those two are going together," Belle frowned. Jefferson heaved a sigh.

" _Fine,_ " he said, rolling his eyes. "But you better hope someone hurries up and asks you. You're cutting it close."

"Who's left?" Neal frowned. "I thought there were loads more."

"Not really," Jefferson said, going back to his potatoes. "I mean, there's always Booth, from Slytherin—"

"No," Belle said instantly. "No way I'm going with Booth."

Jefferson shrugged. "Just as well. He's already asked nearly every girl in our year, and they've all turned him down."

"What about David?" Neal said suddenly. Belle raised her eyebrows.

"David, as in David _Nolan,_ David?"

"I could ask him for you, if you like," Emma offered. "I'm sure he'd take you."

"No, I heard he already asked someone else," Jefferson said, not looking up.

Emma's eyes widened. "Who?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. But I'm pretty sure he's already got a date."

Belle groaned. "Who else?" she asked, burying her head in her arms.

"There's Victor Whale."

She lifted her head to stare at him incredulously. "Victor _Whale_?"

Jefferson blinked at her. "Okay, I'm going to take that as a definitive _no._ "

"Come on, she can do better than Whale," Neal said.

"All right, let me think." Jefferson tapped his fingers against his lips thoughtfully. "Mmm… Jones?"

"Jones?" she said witheringly. "I don't _think_ so."

"Loxely?"

"Oh, but he's _so_ obnoxious," she complained.

"Scarlet, then."

"Who?"

"The Hufflepuff Seeker."

She made a face. "He's so immature."

"Well, you're running out of options," Jefferson said bluntly. "Just go with me, all right?"

Belle sighed heavily. "Fine."

"Good, then it's settled," he said, satisfied.

"Anyone else think it's weird, about Jones and Scarlet?" Emma asked thoughtfully. "You'd think those two would've had dates by now. Quidditch players usually go like _that—_ " she snapped her fingers.

"Scarlet's shorter than most of the girls in our year," Neal pointed out. "And Jones is just an ass."

"Set me on fire at least ten times in our last Charms class," Emma grimaced, showing them the singed edges of her robe.

"Oh, you should have seen what she did to my hair in that class!" Neal said to Jefferson, grinning at Belle. "Do you know, I had to go to Transfiguration like that? McGonagall was _furious._ "

"Was she really?" Belle said, raising her eyebrows. Neal nodded, beaming.

"Said I looked absolutely ridiculous, and if I walked in her class like that again—" he put on a falsetto voice and wagged his finger at them—" _detention, young man! For the rest of the year!_ "

"Bad year to be unpopular with the teachers," Belle said over the sound of Jefferson's and Emma's laughter. "They might let you fail your O.W.L.s."

"Oh, no, I don't want to talk about O.W.L.s now," Emma complained, her laughter dying instantly. "Please, can't we just forget about them? Just for a while?"

" _No!_ " Belle and Jefferson said together, horrified. Emma groaned, tilting her head back.

"But I'm _so_ tired of studying, and I've got six months left of it," she bemoaned. "I don't want to spend lunch talking about how I'm probably going to fail, anyway."

"Speaking of failing," Jefferson said, nodding to the right. Belle followed his line of vision to see Jones standing near the Ravenclaw table, looking intensely uncomfortable. She frowned: what did _he_ want?

He looked startled when he caught her suspicious gaze. "What's wrong with him?" Jefferson said beside her.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head.

Jones scratched the back of his head in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Belle narrowed her eyes when he started walking toward them.

"He's coming over here," she muttered.

"Why?" Jefferson whispered back.

"Well, how should I know?" she hissed.

They bickered back and forth under their breath until Jones stopped in front of them, looking very pale.

"You all right, mate?" Jefferson asked, furrowing his brow. "You look like you're going to be sick."

Jones barely glanced at him. "Can I talk to you?" he said to Belle, no trace of his usual smarminess present in his voice.

"Go right ahead," she said, pointedly not moving. Jones closed his eyes briefly.

"Can I talk to you in private?"

Belle twitched her mouth to the side indecisively. "All right," she relented, getting up. Jones looked momentarily relieved, then glanced around for somewhere to talk.

"Over here," he said, beckoning for her to follow him to the Slytherin hourglass. Belle smiled in satisfaction as she passed her own House's hourglass, noting that there was a greater amount of sapphires in the Ravenclaw hourglass than emeralds in the Slytherin one.

"Okay," Jones breathed, backing into the space between the two hourglasses. Belle folded her arms, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Uh…" He fiddled with a loose thread. "I just, uh… I wanted to…"

"Hurry up, Jones," she said impatiently. "I've got better things to do right now."

A shadow flitted across his face. "I was just wondering if you'd consider tutoring me," he said finally. "I didn't want to ask in front of all your friends, I'm not exactly proud of having to ask for help, but…" He shifted his gaze to his feet, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "But I need it."

Belle blinked in surprise. "Oh," she said. "Tutoring…"

"Yeah, I remembered what you said the other day," he said, some of his old cockiness creeping back into his voice. "And it kills me to say it, but you're right. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of Ministry officials. And I figured since you're the best in our year…"

Belle tilted her head, considering. On the one hand, she was impressed he had been able to humble himself enough to ask for her help. On the other hand, he was still an arrogant bully. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly.

"Look, I know I don't have any business asking you to help me, after…well, everything," he said abruptly. "But I'm really running out of options here. So—" he raised his eyebrows quizzically—"you willing to help me or not?"

Belle looked at him for a few minutes, tapping her foot as she thought. Finally, she blew out a breath. "I know I'm going to regret this," she said. "But I'll help you if— _IF—"_ she held up a finger—"you apologize to Ruby and Graham."

The relieved smile slid off his face instantly. "You want me to apologize to Hunter?" he said incredulously. "Are you _mad_?"

"Those are my terms," she said, folding her arms. "If you want my help, that's what you have to do."

Jones looked furious, curling his hands into fists. "Why?" he said roughly.

"Because I'd like to see you as humiliated as they were the other day," she said acidly. "And either way, I get my way. You can either humiliate yourself in front of a bunch of Ministry wizards, or you can humiliate yourself my way." She smiled sweetly. "Your choice."

He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting around with the effort of keeping his temper. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth.


	4. The Great Hall: Gryffindors

Ruby tried to discreetly look over at the Hufflepuff table to sneak a glimpse of Graham, but then David dropped into the seat right in front of her, humming cheerfully.

"David," she said exasperatedly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you really have to sit _right_ there?" she said. He looked at her bemusedly.

"Why? What's wrong with sitting here?"

"It's just…oh, nothing," she sighed, resting her cheek against her hand. "You look awfully pleased with yourself."

"He is," Robin said, then grinned at her. "Hello, beautiful," he said, sliding into the seat next her.

"Ugh." Ruby rolled her eyes and scooted herself further down the bench.

"Anyways," Robin said, unfazed by her rudeness, "little Davey Nolan's got a date for the Yule Ball." He smiled at David patronizingly. "Don't you, Davey?"

"Davey's got himself a date," David said triumphantly, drumming the table.

Ruby squealed. "Congratulations!" she said excitedly, clapping her hands. "Who is it, who is it?"

"Not telling," he smirked.

" _David,_ " she whined, sagging her shoulders.

He shook his head. Ruby looked over at Robin.

"Do _you_ know?"

"Haven't the foggiest. Speaking of dates—" he flashed her a winning smile—"you still going with Hunter?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Sure you didn't change your mind?"

"Very."

"All right," he said, shrugging. "But if you do…"

Ruby ignored him, turning back to David. "Come on, David, _please?_ Just a hint?"

"Stop pestering me, I'm not telling you anything," he said. Ruby sighed dramatically.

"Oh, very _well._ " She straightened in her seat, trying to peek at Graham over his head. She could _just_ see the tips of his curls—

Suddenly, he stood up, catching her eye and grinning at her. She flushed, smiling back. _Hi,_ she mouthed, giving him a shy little wave.

"Oh, here we go," Robin muttered as Graham came over. David looked up, raising his eyebrows.

"Hey, Hunter."

"Nolan." Graham turned his head and smiled down at her. "Hi, Ruby." Ruby beamed.

"You can sit down," she offered, sliding further down. Robin made an indignant noise as Graham took the space between him and Ruby.

"You know, if you ever want to, you can always sit with us at Hufflepuff," he said.

"Maybe," she said casually, tossing her hair.

"You can't sit outside your House," Robin said pointedly. "Sorry, Hunter. No Badgers at the Gryffindor table."

"Emma sits at Ravenclaw all the time," Ruby said, her smile sliding off her face. "Look, she's sitting right…" She frowned at the familiar figure of a tall Slytherin boy, hovering near the Ravenclaw table. "What is _Jones_ doing at Ravenclaw?"

Graham's smile turned into an ugly grimace. Ruby put a hand on his shoulder as he rose in his seat, his hands clenching into fists. They watched as Jones walked over to Emma's group, stopping in front of Belle French. Ruby narrowed her eyes, preparing to stalk over and tell him to back off—but then Belle got up from her seat and followed him.

"Where are they going?" Robin said, turning his head to stare. "What are they doing? What are they talking about?" he demanded as they stopped to have what was clearly supposed to be a private conversation between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin hourglasses. "What's going on?"

"Do you think any of us have any more information than you do?" David said, whirling around irritably.

"Yeah, Robin, shut up," Graham said absently, craning his neck to get a better look. Robin's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything.

"Are they arguing?" Ruby asked, squinting.

"Doesn't look like it," David mused. "Oh, wait—now he's getting angry… she's folding her arms…yeah, they might be arguing."

"Wait—" Ruby frowned, sitting up in her seat. "Are they coming over here?"

"No," Graham said, shaking his head. "They couldn't be… Even Jones wouldn't have the nerve to—blimey, they _are._ "

Belle marched Jones to their table, wearing a very self-satisfied smile. Jones, for his part, was glaring at the ground, his fists swinging at his sides. They watched open-mouthed as he stopped in front of them, still refusing to look up.

Belle peeked out from behind him. "I think Jones has something to say to the two of you," she said to Ruby and Graham. She nudged him with her elbow. "Go on."

Jones blew out a breath, and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Sorry," he said flatly.

David dropped his fork. Ruby and Graham exchanged a wide-eyed look.

"I think he can do better than that," Belle said through clenched teeth. Jones closed his eyes.

"Sorry," he repeated, louder.

" _No,_ " Belle said threateningly. "I think he wants to apologize individually and specifically."

Jones whirled around in rage. "I think he's apologized enough, thanks very much!"

"Well, _I_ disagree!" she said hotly, putting her hands on her hips. She met his glare, stubbornly glaring back. They seemed to have a silent battle of wills before Jones slowly turned around and forced himself to look Ruby in the eye.

"I'm…" He exhaled frustratedly. "I'm sorry I… humiliated you in front of everyone…and that I…" He seemed to be searching for words. "That I shouted your name some…and did some other shouting…and stuff."

Ruby blinked rapidly, unable to believe her ears.

"And Graham?" Belle prodded. Jones squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth tightly enough to shatter them.

"I'm sorry for humiliating you, too, Hunter," he said, his breathing uneven. "I'm so very sorry that I shouted your name and made fun of your Head Boy aspirations, and I'm sorry that your team has a rubbish Seeker, and I caught the Snitch right from under his oversized nose—"

"No," Belle said fiercely. "That is _not_ an apology. Start over, Jones. Or the deal's off."

"Deal?" Robin perked up. "What deal?"

"Keep your nose out of it, Loxley, it doesn't concern you," Jones snapped. Belle narrowed her eyes.

"I think you owe Robin an apology as well," she said coldly.

Robin's jaw dropped. Jones covered his eyes, cursing under his breath. "I'm sorry, Loxley," he said, dropping his hands and glaring at him darkly.

Robin raised his eyebrows. "Apology accepted, mate."

"Now, Graham," Belle ordered. Jones flicked his gaze to Graham.

"Sorry I embarrassed you," he said in a low voice, nearly growling.

Graham stared at him wordlessly, not taking his eyes off him as Jones turned to Belle.

"Satisfied?"

"It'll do," she said, shrugging.

They walked away, leaving the four of them to stare after them, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"Did Jones just apologize?" Ruby said breathlessly. "To _us?_ "

"And _me_!" Robin said delightedly. "That was _amazing!_ "

"How did she get him to say all that?" Graham said wonderingly. "What does she have on him?"

"All we know is, there's a deal of some sort," Robin said, frowning thoughtfully. He templed his fingers, watching as Jones and Belle went to their separate tables.

Ruby studied Jones as he made his way toward his usual spot next to Victor Whale, a few seats down from Regina Mills. "Did he get hit with a Bludger in the head during Quidditch practice or something?" she mused, absently twirling her hair. Whale looked over at her, as per his usual custom, and she immediately looked away.

"Well," Graham said at last, pushing himself up, "I've got Transfiguration homework to finish, so I'll talk to you guys later. Nolan, Loxely—" he grinned down at Ruby. "Bye, Ruby."

"Bye," she said, blushing furiously. Robin rolled his eyes.

"Mind you, I don't even know what Jones was apologizing to you for," he said darkly as Graham walked away. "It's because of him Hunter asked you at all."

"Hey!" Ruby said, stung.

"Well, it's true!" he insisted. "Should have apologized to _me_!"

"Did you find anyone yet?" David asked, frowning. "You'd better hurry up, all the good ones are nearly taken."

"Who's left?" Robin asked, ignoring Ruby's indignant splutter.

"Let's see…" David put his fork down, thinking. "I could ask Emma, if you want."

"She's going with Neal Cassidy," Ruby said, shaking her head. David looked surprised.

"She is?" he said. "Blimey, I didn't even know he _asked_ her."

"Of course he did, he's liked her for ages," Ruby said, rolling her eyes at his ignorance.

"He _has?"_

"Honestly, David," she said exasperatedly.

"Can we get back to me?" Robin said as David opened his mouth. "I'm sure we're all thrilled for Cassidy, but I'm still dateless."

"What about Mary Margaret Blanchard?" Ruby suggested, seeing that David had been rendered speechless. "From Hufflepuff."

"Blanchard?" Robin repeated scathingly.

"She's really nice."

"Who cares about nice?" he asked the ceiling. Ruby frowned.

"Well, _I_ care about nice. Maybe because I'm not impossibly shallow like other people at this table."

"Right," David said, recovering his speech. "You're going with Hunter because he's _nice._ Not because he's a Quidditch star. Not because nearly every girl in school is in love with him. You're going because he's _nice._ "

Ruby glowered at him, folding her arms.

"What about Belle French?" Robin asked suddenly. "Is she going with anyone?"

"Not that I know of," David said. "You could try, but I don't like your chances."

"Might as well try Regina Mills, while you're at it," Ruby said acidly. "Seeing as you don't care about _nice_ and all _._ "

"No," David and Robin said at the same time. Ruby and Robin frowned quizzically at David. He looked between the two of them.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Is that who you're going with?" Ruby asked, crinkling her brow. "Regina _Mills—?_ "

"—from _Slytherin?_ " Robin finished, an incredulous look on his face. "She's the enemy!"

"She's really pretty, though," David shrugged. "And she said yes."

"Regina Mills agreed to go with _you_?" Ruby said disbelievingly.

"Gryffindors should go with Gryffindors, and Slytherin scum should go with Slytherin scum," Robin said firmly. "We shouldn't be mingling with other Houses. So, Ruby, will you please dump that pretty-boy Hufflepuff and just go with me already?"

"Robin, _stop_ ," she said, slamming her hands on the table. "I'm going with Graham. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't go with you. I'd go with _Jones_ before I'd go with you."

"Why, 'cause he's _nice?_ " Robin shot back. "Oh, wait a minute—no, he's a horrible person and everyone hates him. Much like Regina Mills," he added, pointing sternly at David.

"Yes, but I don't care about that," David said pleasantly. "So, it's fine."

"What about Wendy Darling?" Ruby said. "She's a fourth-year, but—"

"NO." Robin shook his head. "I can't go with a fourth-year when everyone else is going with someone in our year. It'll look pathetic."

"Go stag," David said suddenly.

"Might have to," Robin grumbled, slumping.

"No, no, no, really—go stag," David insisted. "Say you did it on purpose or something. If you play your cards right, you can pull it off without looking pathetic."

"Victor Whale's going stag," Robin complained. "That puts me on the same playing field as him. And _Booth._ "

"I don't think Whale's going to be going stag," Ruby frowned, watching Mary Margaret detach herself from the Hufflepuff table and approach the Slytherins. "I didn't think she was _serious…._ "

"What?" David asked, twisting in his seat. "What is it?"

"Blanchard," Robin said, looking after her disbelievingly. "She's talking to Whale." He looked at them bemusedly. "Why would she be talking to Whale?"

David and Ruby exchanged a glance as Robin ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes, muttering to himself.

"Blanchard's talking to Whale… Belle's making deals with Jones… David's taking Regina Mills… Ruby's going with a Hufflepuff instead of me…" He looked up, bewildered. "What's _wrong_ with you people?"


	5. The Great Hall: Slytherins

Victor frowned at the empty seat beside him, and twisted around, squinting. Where the bloody hell was Jones?

"Oi! Regina!" he hissed across the table.

"What?" she said absently, poring over a Madam Malkins' catalog.

"D'you know where Jones is?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say the hospital wing."

Victor whirled around, alarmed. "Why? What happened?"

Regina glanced up. "Nothing happened. It's just… that's usually where he is, isn't it?"

"I s'pose…"

Jones had a tendency to get into situations that ended with rather nasty injuries: his spells often set off explosions, his potions were more often poisonous than not, and he never walked away from a single Quidditch match without half a dozen Bludger- inflicted injuries. Victor had to bring him his homework at least once a week.

"So," he said, giving up on his search and turning around. "I see you're looking at dress-robes. Does that mean someone's asked you?"

Regina closed her eyes. "Obviously."

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "You sure you're not just saying that so _I_ don't ask you?"

She ignored him and continued studying the page in front of her. Victor heaved a sigh.

"Fine," he said, turning back around and resuming his search. "It's not like you're the only…" he trailed off, catching sight of Jones near the Ravenclaw table. "What the hell?"

Jones scratched his head, looking more nervous than he did before a Charms exam, and approached a group of Ravenclaws. Victor sat on his knees to see who: Belle French, Jefferson Hatter, Neal Cassidy, and that blonde Gryffindor girl whose name he could never remember.

"What's he doing?" he asked bewilderedly as Jones stopped to talk to Belle. To Victor's amazement, Belle stood up and followed Jones to the hourglasses, stopping in between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin ones. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Can you talk to yourself _inside_ your head?" Regina snapped. Victor barely heard her.

"What are they talking about? Why is she—?" He gasped as Belle marched him— _marched_ him—over to the Gryffindor table. To the _Gryffindor_ table?

His jaw dropped as Belle dragged Jones to where Ruby Lucas ( _oh, Ruby,_ he sighed to himself) sat with a few members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Hunter ( _stupid git_ ). He glared at the ground until Belle nudged him; then he looked up and said something. Victor watched the scene with wide eyes: it looked like Belle was _ordering_ him. Why would Jones be taking orders from Belle? He didn't…? Victor frowned suspiciously, thinking back to the other day… No, he decided, shaking his head. No, that was ridiculous. Of course he didn't. He _couldn't._ They hated each other. Didn't they?

He caught Ruby's eye and, as per usual, she looked away. Victor barely noticed this time: he was too busy watching Jones stalk away from the Gryffindor table, Belle trailing behind him. She said something to him before she rejoined her group, which he ignored, walking with his head down to his seat beside Victor. Angrily, he tossed his bag down and buried his head in his arms.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Victor said instantly, yanking him up by the neck of his robes. Jones tried to swat his hands away, but Victor clung on. "You tell me, you tell me right now, what all _that_ was about!" he demanded.

"Get off me," Jones insisted, trying to pull away. "Come on, stop, I'm hungry," he pleaded, reaching for a plate. Victor released him, but didn't stop talking.

"Why were you talking to Belle French? Why were you at the Gryffindor table? Why are you eating sprouts?" he added, making a face.

Jones swallowed. "I like sprouts," he said simply.

"How ridiculous. Were you talking to Ruby? Were you talking to _Hunter_? TALK TO ME, JONES, WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Jones frantically shushed him, looking around before turning furiously back. "Would you lower your _voice_?" he hissed. "What's wrong with you?"

Victor slammed his fist down. "Tell me!"

" _Nothing_ ," Jones said through clenched teeth.

" _TELL ME._ "

"Go _away_."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—"

"For the love of God, Jones, would you shut him up!" Regina exclaimed. Victor nodded emphatically. Jones glared at her.

"Stay out of it, Mills."

Regina whipped out her wand. "If you don't tell him, I'll hex you," she said fiercely. "I am _not_ spending the rest of lunch listening to him!"

Victor tugged on his sleeve. "You better tell me, she's brilliant at hexes."

Jones eyed her wand. "Fine," he said reluctantly, and turned in his seat to face Victor. "I was asking her to help me in Charms, because Flitwick's been breathing down my neck about my grades. She said she'd only do it if—" he shuddered in disgust—"if I _apologized_ to Lucas and Hunter."

"And you _did_ it?" Victor breathed, his eyes popping out. Jones nodded, grimacing. "Why the bloody hell would you do something like that?"

"Have you been listening to me at all?" he said furiously. "Because I'm _failing_ Charms."

"I know, I got that—"

"Yeah, _everyone_ knows that," Regina snorted, having put down her catalog to join the conversation. "People at Durmstrang probably know that."

"Thanks, thanks for that," Jones said, smiling sarcastically.

"But I would have helped you!" Victor said bemusedly. "You didn't have to apologize to _Hunter!_ Why would you do that? That's like slapping me right across the face!" He pounded the table with his fist. "Bloody Judas!"

"Okay, _this—_ " Jones gestured vaguely around him—"isn't about you. Flitwick told me I _have_ to pass this O.W.L., or the only job I'm going to get is being Filch's assistant. She's the best in our year, so if anyone's going to get me out of this mess, it's her. Those were her terms, so that's what I did. All right?"

Victor slit his eyes at him suspiciously. "You're being awfully defensive."

"Because you're being awfully shrill and annoying," he said, going back to his sprouts. "You know, you kind of sound like my mum when you're angry."

"Excuse me?" Victor said as Regina spit out pumpkin juice.

"Yeah," Jone smiled, nodding. "Her voice gets all high-pitched and shriek-y, like yours. The two of you sound like a pair of banshees."

Victor opened his mouth to deny it, but stopped, seeing Mary Margaret Blanchard from Hufflepuff walking toward them, smiling at him warmly. "What the hell?"

"What?" Jones turned around, following his line of vision, and frowned. "Blanchard?" he said as she stopped in front of them, beaming at Victor. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask Victor if he would come with me to the Yule Ball," she said directly, making Regina choke on her food.

Victor opened and closed his mouth a few times, shaking his head in disbelief. "How's that?"

"Do you want to come to the Yule Ball with me?" she repeated patiently, smiling at him. Jones stared between the two of them with wide eyes, a smile growing on his face. Victor didn't like that smile—he knew that smile—

"Jones," he muttered, "don't you—"

"Of _course_ he'll go with you!" Jones said brightly, clapping him on the shoulder. Blanchard's eyebrows shot up.

"You will?"

"He most certainly will!" Jones beamed at Victor. "Look at you, you've got a date to the Yule Ball! Good for you, mate, you deserve it."

Victor looked at him furiously. " _Jones!_ " he hissed.

"Oh, good!" Blanchard said happily. "I've got lilac dress robes, so if you wanted to—"

"Match? Oh, I'm sure Victor's got some lilac robes tucked away somewhere," Jones reassured her. "And if not, we'll just send an owl down to Madam Malkin's."

Blanchard beamed. "I'll see you, then," she said to Victor.

"Yeah, see you," he croaked. He waited until she had walked out of earshot, then rounded on Jones, aiming a fist at his head.

"Ow!"

"How could you do this to me?" he demanded. "Blanchard? You're making me go with Blanchard?"

"Would you rather go alone?" Jones snapped. "You'll look pathetic!"

" _You're_ going alone! Mr.- _Ooh- I- Don't- Want- to- Ask- Regina- I- Can- Go- By- Myself-Because- I- Don't- Care- What- People- Think- Of- Me- Because- I'm- Just- A- Dumb- Quidditch- Freak- Who- Couldn't- Manage- A- Bloody- Levitation- Charm- If- My- Life- Depended- On- It!"_

He raised his eyebrows. "'Jones' is good, actually."

"I will _kill_ you!" he hissed vehemently. "I will _murder_ you and send your mangled corpse to your mother in a _box_!"

Jones tsked. "I don't think your girlfriend would approve of that."

"Don't," Victor said instantly. "Don't do this to me."

"Oi, Regina—any lilac wizards' robes in there?"

" _Don't—"_

"Or witches'. Not even sure if there _are_ lilac robes for wizards," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at Victor, who glared back.

"Laugh it up, Jones," he said threateningly. "While you still can. Because I'm going to find out who your little Ravenclaw girlfriend is, and I am going to _destroy_ you."

Jones's smile flickered. "You're delusional."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Victor said with a smug smile as he turned back to his plate.

"No, I'm serious. We should take you to St. Mungo's."

"Oh, okay," he said, smiling patronizingly. "I belong in St. Mungo's. You're right."

"Yeah. And if you keep it up, I'll put you in St. Mungo's myself."

Victor smirked. "Sure you will. I mean, you have to do _something_ to impress Little Miss Ravenclaw."

Jones looked at him for a moment, as if he were a mildly interesting painting. "You're going to have lilac robes," he decided.

Victor frowned down at him as he bent to pick up his bag. "What are you talking about?"

Jones poked his head back up, looking at him with mock incredulity. "Lilac!" he said with wide eyes. "You need more lilac!"

"What are you doing?" Victor grabbed his arm, a feeling of impending doom descending on him. "What are you going to do?"

"Lilac!" he repeated, standing up and grinning at him. "Just…lilac!"

"Jones?" Victor stood up, watching him walk away, snickering. "JONES! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"

"LILAC!" he hollered back gleefully, walking backwards. "YOU NEED LILAC!"


	6. Muffliato

"Oh, _there_ you are," Jefferson said as Belle finally emerged from the girls' dormitory and into the Ravenclaw common room. "Come on, I've been waiting."

Belle looked reproachful at his impatient tone. "I couldn't find my textbook," she said, holding up her copy of _A History of Magic._

"Come _on,_ " he urged, pulling her by the arm.

"Just go without me, if you're so worried about being late!" she snapped, jerking her arm free.

Jefferson dropped his jaw indignantly. "Go without _you?_ Belle, we're a couple now! We can't be separated! Not ever! Are you _mad,_ woman?"

Belle gave an unwilling laugh. Ever since they'd arranged to go to the Yule Ball together, Jefferson had insisted they behave as ridiculously as the other couples: every time, she entered the room, he would beam at her and greet her with an overenthusiastic, " _Belle!"_ ; if they walked together in the halls, he would laugh obnoxiously as other giggling couples passed; and when she tried to detach herself from him, he would go down on his knees and wail, "Don't _leave_ me!"

The first few times, everyone thought it was funny. But once they caught onto the fact that he was mocking them, they all stopped laughing.

They walked down the stairway together, as Jefferson had become accustomed to. Ever since Neal had asked Emma to the Yule Ball, they'd spent more and more time together, leaving Belle and Jefferson to their own devices. But it was all right: now they had even more time to discuss their new favorite topic: O.W.L.s.

"So, I asked Snape about it, and he said that he hadn't the slightest idea what potions they would test us on, so it was better we learn all of them. Of course, I was planning to _anyway,_ but…" Jefferson heaved a sighed. "He's so unhelpful. I just hope there's not too much theory-work on the Potions section, I have such a hard time remembering which ingredients have covalent binding agents."

"Oh, I _hate_ binding agents," Belle groaned.

"Well, I don't think anybody _likes_ binding agents," he said reasonably. "But at least the ionic ones are…"

He trailed off as they both stopped, staring as Victor Whale turned the corner in vividly lilac robes. Howling laughter followed him and as the got closer, they saw why: everything— _everything_ — from his tie to his shoelaces, was lilac. He was glaring straight ahead, muttering under his breath, his lilac robes billowing behind him as he strode past. As they walked on, they saw Killian Jones laying on the floor, laughing hysterically.

"They have a strange friendship," Jefferson said, watching him with raised eyebrows, as they continued walking.

"Why do I think Jones is responsible for Whale's robes?" Belle said dryly. "Mind you, I don't know how he managed…he's _dreadful_ at Charms."

"Probably did it the Muggle way," Jefferson shrugged. "Or maybe he's got a hidden talent for prank spells."

"Maybe," Belle mused, sounding unconvinced. "Somehow I doubt he's clever enough for that. Most Quidditch players are even stupider than Quidditch is."

Jefferson stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her in horror. She glanced over her shoulder, looking surprised.

"Oh, I didn't mean Neal," she said quickly. "Neal's obviously not—"

" _Are you suggesting Quidditch is stupid?_ " he thundered, causing several students to turn their heads and stare at him. How _dare_ she! She knew his dedication to Quidditch, having implied his devotion was reaching pathetically high levels. She had seen his shrine to the Tornadoes. She had listened to him, Emma, and Neal discussing Quidditch matches feverishly, analyzing every move by every playing, debating the merits of this team versus that team. And she sat by him nearly every school Quidditch match, while he wore his (admittedly ridiculous) large Ravenclaw hat, listening to him scream at every move made.

"Jefferson," the she-devil said gently. "Don't get upset— _Jefferson!_ " she said exasperatedly as he stalked past her. "Stop!"

"WE ARE BREAKING UP!" he hollered, so loudly that everyone paused in what they were doing to stare at them. Even Jones had stopped laughing and was watching the scene with raised eyebrows.

Belle rubbed the corners of her eyes. "Not now," she said tiredly. " _Please_ not now—"

"Don't talk to me!" he said, turning on his heel dramatically. She sighed heavily and hurried after him.

" _Jefferson!_ "

He stormed into the History of Magic classroom, and slammed his bag down on his desk. He glowered at her when she walked in, looking impatient.

"I'm _sorry,_ " she said, sliding into the seat beside him.

"I don't want to talk to you."

Emma, a few seats over, turned her head. "You two okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's just our first couples'-spat, don't worry about it," Jefferson said moodily. Emma raised her eyes to the ceiling and went back to trying to make her textbook tap-dance.

Belle huffed angrily. "You're _impossible!_ "

He buried his head in his arms. "You hate Quidditch," he said in a muffled voice.

Belle didn't answer. He lifted his head to peek at her: she was taking out her notes, studiously ignoring him.

"Belle," he tried.

She checked her quill, tapping it against her finger.

"Belle."

She smoothed her parchment, straightening the sheets.

Jefferson let out a heavy sigh. "I'm _sorry,_ " he said. "But you know how I feel about Quidditch."

"And _you_ know how _I_ feel about Quidditch," she said tartly, lowering her voice as Binns began his lecture.

Jefferson pulled out his quill and started taking notes about yet another goblin rebellion in the 1800s. He could see Emma out of the corner of his eye, concentrating on controlling a small purple flame dancing in mid-air.

"…Ragnok the Resilient chose to attack using a spearhead formation. Now, the Ministry at this time forbade the use of attack spells against inferior magical creatures, but as it was stated in the hearing that followed the incident, which species can be defined as inferior…?"

"Belle."

"I am _trying_ to learn about Ragnok the Resilient if you don't mind," she said irritably. "I don't have time to argue with you about the Chudley Cannonballs."

He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to correct her. "We won't talk about Quidditch, I promise."

"What do you want, then?" she sighed tiredly.

"What did Jones want the other day?" he asked curiously. It was something that had been bugging him, especially since Belle insisted on acting so secretive about it. Emma and Neal had battered her with questions the whole rest of lunch, but she had just shook her head and said, "No. I said I wouldn't say anything."

Jefferson had chosen to take the more delicate approach: he'd spring the question on her randomly, hoping to startle her into answering; all he accomplished was a disapproving frown and a firm, "Go away, Jefferson."

"Why do you keep asking me that?" she hissed.

"Because you're not telling me."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Belle," he said in an injured tone, "we're a couple. We can't keep secrets from one another!"

"Shh!" she said, looking toward Professor Binns. Jefferson pulled out his wand, and muttered, " _Muffliato_."

"All right, go on," he said eagerly, motioning for her to talk. Belle twitched her mouth back and forth a few times.

"Fine," she relented. "But you can't tell anyone—not even those two," she said, jutting her head toward Neal and Emma.

"Won't breathe a word," he promised. "Now, come on."

She looked around guiltily for a minute. "He asked me to help him with Charms."

"Oh." Jefferson felt slightly disappointed. "Is that it?"

"Yes," she said, frowning. "Sorry, not dramatic enough for you?"

"Well…" He tilted his hand back and forth. "It's a bit lackluster, yeah."

"Sorry," she said shortly, going back to her notes.

"No, no, don't get offended. I'm just saying, I thought it was going to be something like, 'Belle, I've killed a hippogriff, help me hide the body' or something." Jefferson picked up his quill again. "Why'd he ask _you_ for help, anyway?"

She frowned at him. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, if I were Jones, I'd have asked the best person in our year."

"Right," she said dangerously. "And he did."

"No. He asked you." He glanced at her darkening face. "Don't get angry, you're still the second-best."

"You think you're better than me?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Oh, _really?_ " she said, her voice turning shrill. "Care to test that theory?"

"Mmm," he said absently.

"Wizard's duel. Next Hogsmeade visit."

"All right," he said, frowning at Emma's purple flame, which was dancing closer and closer to Ruby Lucas's braid.

"And make sure you stock up on your defensive spells, because—"

"Right, yeah. _Aquamenti!_ " he shouted suddenly, sending a jet of water at Ruby's smoldering braid. Ruby shrieked, covering her head with her hands, while Binns plowed on, not noticing the scene before him.

"…Augustus Pensky legally defended Ragnok before the Wizengamot Council, even though later that year he would found the Organization of Goblin Restriction…"

Belle glared at him as he gave her a self-satisfied smile and stowed his wand away, ignoring Ruby's furious look in his direction. "Is that supposed to be impressive?" she snapped.

"Just doing my civic duty," he shrugged. "Why, are you impressed?"

"Not really."

"Good. If you were, that duel would be too easy."


	7. Snitches and Snowballs

Killian skidded to a halt before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, nearly colliding with the stone wall. " _Draconius,_ " he said, and the wall slid open so he could dart inside.

He raced up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, tossed his schoolbag unceremoniously on his bed, and grabbed his broom. He had just finished his last class of the term, and not a second more was going to be wasted on it. Homework could wait until after the holidays. This first week, though, he was going to enjoy himself: the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball, a Hogsmeade visit this weekend, and Quidditich, Quidditch, Quidditch—as much as he could fit in.

He nearly flew down the steps, and had just turned the corner when a very angry Victor stormed into the common room, no longer sporting the lilac robes, but apparently still furious about it.

His eyes widened when he saw Killian hovering in the corner. "Jones…" he growled, pulling out his wand.

Killian stumbled back, giving him a weak smile. "Now, Victor…"

"If you think you're getting out of this with a 'Now, Victor', you are _very_ mistaken," he said menacingly. "Now… what shall we give you? A tail? Antlers? Maybe some nice feathers."

"I'm sorry, mate, really I am—"

"Not as sorry as you will be."

"I didn't mean for it to go that far—"

"How did you do it?" Victor asked suddenly, dropping his wand. "I had to go to Flitwick, ask if he knew how to undo it, because I couldn't figure out which bloody spell you used! How is it, the _one_ time you can actually do proper magic, is to humiliate me?"

"Because I didn't do it!" he said. "I had to ask Regina for help, and believe you me, she was more than willing. I only told her to do the robes, but she got excited and started jinxing everything in your wardrobe."

Victor turned his head to give Regina, sitting serenely at a study-table, a very ugly look. She smiled back nastily.

"Blanchard will love you in that color," she said. "You two will look so adorable together."

"And I'm sure you and the Bloody Baron will be the belles of the ball," Victor threw back. "That's who you're going with, isn't it?"

She raised her eyebrows. "No."

"Who _are_ you going with?" Killian asked curiously, feeling safe enough to walk past Victor and sit down in an armchair. "It isn't _really_ the Bloody Baron?"

"Don't be stupid," she scoffed.

"But who is it?" Victor pressed, taking the chair next to Killian's.

"I'm not telling you, you'll have to wait until tomorrow night."

"Oh, like I _really_ care all that much," Victor snorted. "I'll be on pins and needles all day tomorrow, I just know it."

Regina rolled her eyes, and went back to scratching words onto her parchment. Victor looked over at Killian with inquisitive eyebrows.

"Sure you want to go alone?"

"Oh, my God," he said exasperatedly, tilting his head back. "Can't you let it go?"

"I'm just saying, if you want to take Blanchard off my hands—"

"Oh, no, no, no…she's all yours, mate," he laughed. "Wouldn't dream of getting in the way of that."

"Are you sure?" Victor said enticingly. "You could make little Miss Ravenclaw jealous."

"Who's little Miss Ravenclaw?" Regina asked, a slight frown on her face as she looked up the properties of doxy venom.

"Who indeed?" Victor smiled, resting his chin on his fist. Killian looked back dryly.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

"Am I?"

"Yes. More than usual, I might add." He eased himself up from his chair and picked up his broom. "I'll see you guys."

"Ooh, is _little Miss Ravenclaw_ on the Quidditch pitch?" Victor called after him, swiveling in his armchair. "Trying to impress her?"

"Actually, Ruby's there," he said, walking backwards. "You're right—she _is_ very pretty, isn't she?"

Victor glared at him. "I hope you plummet to your death, Jones."

"I know," he grinned.

* * *

Outside, the air was crisp, the wind biting into his skin and chilling his fingers to numbness. Killian didn't mind, though: it meant he was _out_ , away from the stuffy classrooms and the dusty books and the spells he couldn't perform. The Snitch felt like ice folded in his hand, the wings feebly fluttering.

As he approached the Quidditch pitch, he could see multiple snowball fights going on, a few minor duels, as well as the scattering of students on the Quidditch stands. Other than that, he had the field to himself.

He released the Snitch: it zoomed away gratefully as he swung his leg over the broom and propelled himself into the air. He must have looked _mad,_ sitting up there in the freezing air, chasing after a half-frozen Snitch, but he didn't care. Half of them were probably hoping he'd freeze to death in the process: he hadn't built the best reputation for himself amongst his peers.

There were two versions of "Jones" known throughout his year. One was the Jones the Slytherins knew: their star Quidditch player who, when he wasn't on the field, kept to himself and silently struggled to pass his classes. Then there was the Jones everyone else knew: the cocky, arrogant Slytherin Seeker who set off an explosion every ten minutes, and provoked a fight whenever possible.

But there was also a third Jones: the one Victor knew; the one Regina Mills sometimes tolerated; the one Liam berated for not being more responsible; the one his mother sent Howlers and Honeydukes to; the one Killian couldn't quite figure out. It was the Jones who _wanted_ to do well in school, but was only just scraping by; the one who dearly loved to stir up trouble and play pranks on unsuspecting victims, but mildly regretted it afterwards; the one who wanted everyone to think he didn't give a damn about anything, even though he had spent many sleepless nights worrying about everything.

There was one thing that tied all three Joneses together: flying. All three of them could breathe better when the air was rushing into their lungs with an icy blast, as they shot through the air atop a broom, chasing after a Snitch.

* * *

Jefferson craned his neck as he squinted at the sky, following the tiny blur streaking after the tiny glint of gold with his eyes.

"What are you _looking_ at?" Belle asked, mildly exasperated as this was the third time he'd been distracted.

"Someone's got a Snitch out," he said absently. Not for the first time, Jefferson felt a pang of jealousy as he fixed his eyes on the Quidditch pitch. He had a beautiful new broom at home, a Nimbus 2001, that he looked after lovingly. His parents refused to let him bring it to Hogwarts, insisting that it would be a distraction from his studies.

"Jeff," Belle said gently. "There's still time to sign up for the train home, it won't leave for another three hours."

Jefferson shrugged. "It's all right. It's probably too cold for flying, anyway." He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go join the snowball fight."

"No," Belle said immediately. "Robin Loxley's out there, you know how he gets."

"Emma will take him down for you," he wheedled.

"You can go," she said. "I'll watch from here."

"Oh, you're no fun," he complained. "Watch my bag, then, would you?"

"Sure." Belle smiled. "Go get slaughtered by Gryffindors."

Jefferson dropped his jaw in mock indignation. "Have you _no_ faith in me?"

"None."

Apparently, Neal and Emma shared the same sentiments, because they both gave him a dubious look when he jogged up to them and insisted on joining their team.

"I thought you two were studying," Emma said, raising her eyes to where Belle still sat on the Quidditch stands.

"'Course not, it's bloody freezing out here," Jefferson said brightly. "Perfect for a snowball fight."

Emma looked at Neal helplessly, who forced a smile on his face. "Come on, then," he said, jutting his head toward the snowbank he and Emma had taken refuge behind.

Jefferson knelt down on his other side, peeking over the top of the snowbank. Ruby Lucas aimed a snowball at his head, and he ducked, hearing it explode against the tree behind him.

"Come on, Hatter!" she hollered. "Don't be a coward!"

Jefferson scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly. He cautiously raised his head, looking for a target. Ruby darted to the left as Emma threw a snowball at her, but Robin Loxley had his head down as he knelt in the snow, packing a small array of snowballs.

Jefferson threw his snowball, hitting Robin in the shoulder. Robin's head snapped up, looking for the perpetrator. Jefferson scampered out of the way as a quick succession of fiercely thrown snowballs pelted in his direction, at least two of them hitting him squarely in the back.

He scooped up another pile, whirling around to hit Robin back, but Emma ran right up to him, slamming a snowball in his face. Neal doubled over laughing, as Robin tried to stand up and run after Emma, but slipped. Emma ducked as Ruby sent another snowball her way, tripping as she did so.

"No!" she shrieked as Robin came up behind her, stuffing snow down the back of her coat. Ruby laughed as Neal leapt over the snowbank and scooped a handful of snow to stuff down Robin's front. Robin gasped, trying to shake the snow out of his shirt, as Neal grabbed Emma's hand and they ran out of the line of fire.

Jefferson's sad little snowball dripped out of his hand as he watched them go, laughing madly as they ran off. Ruby and Robin turned on each other, alternating throwing snow and ducking at the other's shot, completely ignoring him.

 _Always a third wheel,_ he thought bitterly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he trudged back up to the stands, to where Belle still sat. That cheered him up slightly, and a little smile found its to his face.

At least there was Belle.


End file.
